𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬- 𝐚 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

Harry- 15. Be Like Her

Warnings: angst, innuendo, mentions of death

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"Ronald Weasley, this is the last time I say, you shut your gob!"

"That's not alright, honestly," the red-haired Weasley looked at the dark ceiling, his face stoic yet perfectly readable for his best friend, "you got to pull up your nerves and tell this to him... not meant to be rude or anything, but you need to get your pants out of the twist-"

"Put up that man face in front of Hermione, you bipolar ginger Weasley!" Y/n shrieked in an effort to mob out the pariah comment Ron made in the apparently empty common room.

Much to Ron's relief (yet not to Y/n's), the girl in question wasn't there.

But when a pair of green orbs (she swears she can see whole forest inside those eternal boundaries) met her flustered ones, and a small encouraging smirk was passed to her by none other than Harry Potter himself, it was stupid, gremlin, Ronald Weasley who decided to cough in the most pretentious way he could.

Oh well, burn in hell, Weasley.

"Before she comes, I call it a night."

"What got your pants in a twist, mate?" Harry laughed from the other corner of the room, meeting a threatening scoff from the Weasley.

"Honestly?" Y/n saw a wave of bushy hair flashing in front of her orbs as Hermione entered the common room in her 'Brightest Witch' speed and settled in front of her raven-haired friend. "He needs to sort out his priorities. He has not even started his essay on 'Non Verbal Spells' that Snape gave us and to be honest, he won't be satisfied until you submit at least a bunch of ten scrolls," her brows puckered as she turned to the not so lighted corner of the room, and waving her hand at Y/n, pointed to the seat beside harry, "and in Ron's writing, he needs to conjure not less than a dozen."

"Ron is going to get Snape goaded tomorrow," Y/n gave out a short laugh as she lowered herself on the allotted chair.

"Y/n!" She saw Ron poking his head from the hallway of the dorms, "Don't be a bottom tonight!"

Hermione's hand flew to her mouth as she suppressed a shriek of amusement and watched as the blob of red-hair flew back inside before Y/n could hex him to obliviation.

Harry's orbs lingered on his best friend's frozen expression, her slightly open mouth and he could see her tongue poking out the slightest in an attempt to keep her lips wet despite hearing Ron's terrifying choice of words.

With a small smirk, he nudged the girl as she turned to him, still feeling hot in face.

"You wrapped a wanker already? Huh, L/n?"

"What- ofc n-no!" Y/n blinked between her two friends who were panting yet laughing shamelessly at her cocked up situation. "You both know, Ron's mind- his mind goes places!"

"You both have lost the plot," the bushy-haired girl shook her head in a chuffed manner as she picked up her Five Thousand Five Hundred and Fifty Five Tricks To Ace Non-Verbal Spells, "But bespoked, man up, Y/n."

Harry tried not to laugh again as Y/n stuffed her face into her cold palms while Hermione trudged towards the girls' dorm, sending a stiff salute of two fingers in their direction- six years of friendship with three absolute tossers had definitely changed her.

"Come on, Y/n, hoover it up," he tapped her shoulder cautiously. "You know, we don't mind all this."

"You bloody wish," he heard her muffled scoff, "Ron's pulling out my non-existence sex life."